


A small spinning blue planet

by Clownbox (orphan_account)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, The Incredible Hulk (Comics), Thor (Comics)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rating May Change, comics and mcu canon mixed with my bullshit thrown in, goofballs, post Avengers 4, slowburn, this isnt all angst but it deals with immortality on both ends, time-spanning narration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-05 15:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15173198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Clownbox
Summary: The world doesn't stop after the war. Thor has to adjust to being king, Bruce has to come with terms with the fact that he's nearly unkillable. Time still rushes, the planet still spins, and two fools take ages to figure out what it means to be in love.or: a sandbox of king Thor's memories spanning across centuries.





	1. Chapter 1

“Memory is the seamstress, and a capricious one at that. Memory runs her needle in and out, up and down, hither and thither. We know not what comes next, or what follows after. Thus, the most ordinary movement in the world, such as sitting down at a table and pulling the inkstand towards one, may agitate a thousand odd, disconnected fragments, now bright, now dim, hanging and bobbing and dipping and flaunting, like the underlinen of a family of fourteen on a line in a gale of wind.” ― **Virginia Woolf** , **Orlando**

 

 

**I.**

 

The panther palace reminds him too much of his own. In colder colors and deeper into the earth, perhaps, but the structure is there. Long halls covered in vibranium, blinking with specially designed lights, and tall ceilings that branched off in their own intricate labyrinths. There's a big window that gives him a look at the city flickering below, where people are counting their wounded, and their losses. Thor averts his gaze, still muddy from the battlegrounds and beaten by the circumstances. Far too much has happened in such a small window of time. He didn't even get to taste triumph before it was snatched from his hands and burned to a crisp. He hasn't been paying enough attention to conversations either.

 

The avengers barely speak but for whispers, and the now ruling princess panther (he’s been so out of it he’s forgotten to ask for a name.) is assigning them sleeping quarters where they can rest and will be shortly assisted with their wounds, if need be. She has firm hands when handing out little keycards, but he recognizes the phantom pain in her stare. Thor sympathizes with it, and his small smile is returned with a trembling one of her own, shielding herself from tears.

 

“This one is yours. Don't get lost now.” the sleek gray metal is pressed onto his muddy hand and she keeps going, accompanied by the remaining red lady knights. There are fewer of them, fewer citizens too, and more empty quarters. Half, to be precise.

 

The entire world was cut on the middle because he wanted Thanos to be able to hear his last words as his axe cursed through the titan’s disgusting body, and that cost a price too high. It feels like its his fault. Everything feels like it was Thor’s fault. If he had been quicker, stronger, wiser- _if he had been better_ , no one would have been sacrificed. But it’s too late for that. Natasha has stormed off sight, holding onto one of these midgardian speakers shaped like a square like her life depended on it. Her hands shook, and he had the impression she was uttering Clint’s name over and over. Steve… he hadn’t seen steve since they left the devastated jungle. The iron man that sits not too far from him isnt the one he’s used to battling with, sporting gray armour. He hasn’t seen Rhodey in a while, but he feels like a ghost. He’s not sure where Tony is. If he is somewhere at all. Bruce had followed a group of healers inside a while ago, insisting he could help lessen the burdens of the disaster. Rocket sits by Thor’s side in an endless chain of whimpers, scratching his card.

 

The entire room buzzes with aftershock.

 

He notices something has changed, considerably shifted, when instead of retreating with the others into his assigned rooms, he wants to march over to Banner’s and fall on his arms. He wants to be held, to hide for five minutes. A minute would do good enough if that’s all he can steal. Even if he knows it would be vacant as other matters are getting taken care of,  and this is all a small, irrelevant, selfish wish of his.

 

But Rocket has been inconsolable ever since they left the battlefield, pretending he’s sneezing every time one of his cry-hiccups gets too loud as if hoping nobody would notice.  It’s enough to snap Thor back to earth and back to the pressing issues. Stormbreaker is heavy on his arms with the remains of his tree son, and Thor stays by his side. He pushes that feeling deep down on his gut and locks it, in a little jade colored chest, embracing his small friend and being clung onto until the sniffles are no more.

 

His, or Rabbit’s, he’s not fully sure.

 

_\--_

 

 Thor finds solace inside his memories. For a man with collected 1500 years of life, he had quite a bit of those to go around, and just as much stories to tell. He had lived more than any other ordinary man could dream to live. But immortality often comes paired with loneliness, and for good reasons. In times of war, of chaos, of destruction- times he has seen happen once, and will see happen again- the only true safe haven is the mind, if you make it so. And so he does, he splits open his inner eye and asks, stubbornly, _when did that feeling start?_

 

His voice bounces through the folds of his brain, curls around the corner of his personal cosmos and crash into nothingness, until there’s only silence. And from the silence, comes the answer.

 

_It’s Stark tower. Just after the battle of new york, when the blood and dust has settled and reconstruction & damage control is on its way. _

 

That's when they could first properly meet.

 

He remembers that night all too well, the rush of adrenaline that had coated their bones turning into pure, distilled glee of being alive. Of having accomplished something, no matter how chaotic- and frankly, dysfunctional- their little team might’ve seemed. But he remembers what came before, too. Before the lights went down and there was a mess with the metal man suits, before they got drunk and lenient and gave room to noisy midgardians with flashy little cameras that wanted to know all about their tales- there was Banner.

 

He wasn't _Bruce_ then, lingering on the empty, colossal balcony with a glass of water sitting on his hand. No, the man that yelped and threw himself to the side as thor came down from the skies with a flash and his hammer in tow was definitely a stranger.

 

“Oh, It’s just _you-_ Thor,” he watches as Banner takes a deep breath, balancing his cup on his hands again. They’re so small compared to the other set of bigger, greener hands, but just as hardened. He wonders if Banner fights, almost childishly.

 

“Just _me, ‘Thor’?_ Perhaps i’m not as welcome in tonight’s festivities as i assumed?” he’s oblivious for the kicks of it, teasing nature embedded in his words. Bruce pauses with a small squint directed at him, calculating gaze running over Thor’s figure to be soon followed by a shrug.

 

“I’m not sure, are you invited? I think you’ll find our parties very boring, either case.”

 

“I disagree,” Thor smiles at the banter, taking the glass sitting loosely by his hand with a flourish “I’ve been to one of your... _taverns_ before, and i had a glorious time.” He takes a big gulp from it, supposed to be his charming argument-ender, but the look of confused betrayal he gives the cup when what goes down his throat is simply _water_ pulls a laugh out of Banner. It’s short and precise, like him. It starts off as a small  bubbling chuckle and blossoms into something that the man hides behind his hand, a secret. It makes Thor keep smiling despite his mix-up.

 

“Say, Doctor. Wouldn’t you like to try your hand at a drinking competition?”

 

Thor remembers being told, briefly, that Bruce wasn’t big on drinking. He remembers being led inside and being served a thin, tall glass of a sparkling drink by the man himself- which he swore was better than mead any day of the week, and easier on the head the next day over. Thor didn't quite like it as much, nor did he have a lot of post-drinking headaches, but he enjoyed having this small peculiarity shared with him, as it felt much like a second secret laugh.

 

That night, he musters up courage to ask about the jade giant, “Hulk”, and is pleasantly surprised to learn Banner remembers how they valiantly fought together atop a great flying beast. But he doesn't remembers much of their fight on the carrier, nor does he remember jumping around new york and smashing a lot on his own. He remembers tag-teaming with Thor, specifically. Bruce snorts out a mischievous laugh and pretends he’s hitting an invisible enemy when describing how Thor flew towards a wall after hulk punched him. He beams, lightens up like he hadn’t done the entire time Thor knew him.

 

“Maybe,” The man ponders to himself when the excitement of the tale leaves his body, “i’m only able remember the good parts.” Bruce still smiles, serenity and maybe even satisfaction flooding his voice, and Thor is suddenly glad he was part of it, somehow, somewhat.

 

He didn't see much of Banner once Stark made his triumphal entrance and so did most of his other guests- but he recalls catching Bruce smiling proudly as he told one or other stranger, in a drunken daze, how he teamed up with the god of thunder and nearly beat him one-handed.

 

The strangest thing was that Thor remembers seeking him through the waves of people. He wanted to catch another laugh, but that never happened.

 

 --

  


Funny, How that would become an habit.

 

\--

  


A set of rapid knocks echo through the moonlit palace halls. They’re all empty but for a blonde figure hooded with a blanket, and that figure is Thor. Night, as it turns out, is a subjective concept when one has spent nearly 2 days actively running around in space, escaping a dumpster planet, defeating an evil lost sister, forging celestial weapons supposed to kill titans and making half of the universe vanish.

 

“Just a second!” The voice inside is small, weak on the edges, but just as awake as he is. Thor concentrates hard on the diverse shapes carved all around the metal door, feigning interest as if it’s a secret code he learned during his childhood in need of translation.

 

It isn’t, he needs a distraction to ignore the tall empty tunnels molded by looming shadows, trying to engulf him and drown him in solitude. He’s way past the age of feeling scared of being alone, but it's different this time. He doesn't feels alone because he’s lonely, he feels alone because out of the entirety of Asgard, _great, golden Asgard,_ there is only him. He can feel a billion hungry eyes peering from the darkness, grabbing at his ankles. As if the ground is pulling him in and he’s devoured by invisible eyes.

 

“- _Thor_?”

 

He whips his head back up in a millisecond. As suspected, The insides of Bruce’s room are covered in a soft yellow light, from a small lamp, and it simmered into the dark just outside. His bed was empty and the man in front of him barely looked like he had touched it, if at all. It's not something the stranded king could or should comment on though, as he had also escaped the bed he was given. Bruce looked just as restless as he was in their ship, before Thanos invaded.

 

“Can i come in?”

 

“If you c- _Of course_ you can.” Bruce is taken aback for a brief second before he steps aside, giving room for the god to stumble in. He takes a second to look down at himself and frantically starts patting at his clothes, pushing his glasses back up and checking if his pants aren't weirdly caving in again. “You, uh- i, i take it you can't sleep, too?”

 

Thor gets the impression he feels _insecure_ whenever they’re in a room together. He sits on the edge of the mattress realizing It doesn't massages his ego as much as it used to, when he was immature.

 

“My nightmares are often unkind, my friend. I’m afraid of what i might encounter if i venture further in.”

 

“But you’re _Thor_ .” the doors close behind Bruce’s back, and he is unsure about approaching the bed until Thor pats a place besides him in a huddle of covers. It’s convincing enough. “...Your nightmares should run _from you_ , if they're smart.” Bruce had never been a man of consolation, but the occasion calls for hope.

 

“They might have done so, once.” Thor takes in a deep breath, flexing his hands almost automatically in flashes of the lost battle. “But i’m not the god i once was.”

 

“You're better.”

 

“I’m _softer_.”

 

“You!” Bruce interjects, vehemently shaking his head in a stubborn strike of end-of-the-world positivity, if only to avoid despair “You’re _the lord of thunder._ You cursed through an entire army and made sure we are still-”

 

Thor cuts him halfway through, with a depreciative laugh.

 

“I’m a joke.” he squeezes his knees so hard his pants crinkle. He stiffens, and the blanket slides down his arms and pools at his sides with the disturbance. “The quicker we accept that… well,” His entire stance spells out frustration and a deep fear of losing. Losing more than he could bet, losing lives that weren't his to begin with. Bruce knows that fear all too well, the responsibility thrusted in them ever since the Avengers Initiative pulled their names out of thin air as the saviours and defenders of mankind. It's a silly, preposterous concept now. They are meant to protect the entire planet? They are meant to make sure no one dies if, Gods forbid, one of the millions of murderous alien entities come to knock on the earth’s crust time and time again? They have to deal with the fallouts and discussions and explosions and the _blame and_ -

 

“I’m sorry.” Thor touches his arm, anxiously at first, comforting when his emotions seem to steer. “I just don't know what i’m doing anymore.” He sinks into a hug without a second question, burrowing his face on the crook of Bruce’s neck and exhaling as sharply as his lungs permit him to. He wants to count to 10, regain his composure, start a battle plan and try to figure out if valkyrie and the survivors are safe, but its too much, too quickly.

 

Bruce is scented like floral soap and stressed sweat. He took a bath as soon as he got into the room, but it didn't help with his nerves. Thor doesn't helps with his nerves in general. If anything, he entices them.

 

“I’ll tell you a secret, big guy.” Banner gets over his awkwardness and slips an arm around Thor’s back, feeling the muscles give away tension as he does so. He gets heavier, like a boulder, but Hulk’s used to moving rocks anyways. It’s about time Banner tries too. “None of us do. We’re just… We are trying. Hell, you’ve been trying a hell of a lot while i was stuck as a big stupid oaf for two years.”

 

“- He’s not stupid.”

 

“Alright, i’m sorry” he sighs slowly, correcting himself as he pats Thor’s spine. “Stuck as a big _Hulk_ for two years. In alien gladiator town,” he still says Hulk like its meant to be a self deprecating insult, because it is. “Which, by the way, you also helped me escape from. And from there onwards, you- you’ve done _so much more, Thor.”_

 

 _‘You have a new hammer, Thor. You have a new eye, Thor. You have a fighting spirit and a talking raccoon_ , _Thor_ ’ he wants to say, but he’s not sure how well he can put that into words without sounding bitter. The compassionate drive that fed Banner’s speech so far runs out of fuel and he bites his lip, voice dying as he rests his head on the god’s shoulder.

 

“I couldn't even get the Hulk out. Asshole won't talk to me, either.” he sighs “If anyone’s a joke out of the two of us, that should be me.”

 

And there’s a beat of silence.

 

“Then i suppose we are both losers.” Thor rumbles again.

 

They agree, quietly, to share that weakness where nobody else is there to judge them for it but themselves. It's a mute negotiation, that makes itself known in their comfortable silence, woven into the shape of their hug. Some things don't need to be said to be heard, after all.

 

Banner is surprised to find his arms can hide an entire god within them, and Thor seems to only be getting smaller and smaller as they eventually curl into the bed, lights out. Like with children, the darkness is their secret keeper, and covered by it, but protected by the warm embrace, he mourns. He mourns his father, his mother, his brother, his best friends, and even his sister. For he is Thor, and he understands how blinding kingship is. He mourns his people, his future. He breaks apart into a thousand tiny pieces that won't stop cracking and Bruce listens, and he holds that mess together because he _understands_ what it is like to have a broken home.

 

He listens and works on assembling him back together with proverbial glue, and he promises, he utters into the night, that he’ll always be there for him. No matter whatever time it might be, however bad the voice in his head gets.

 

As many times as the puny god may require him to, because _that's what friends do. They help each other_.

 

 --

  


Thor sees another war before that.

 

A war in which he still battles in, but with Valkyrie in flanking of his sides and Hulk in the other. They march through Hel, through time, through disrupted space and memory, and they come out together on the other side. Hurt, scarred, but victorious.

 

War takes old friends, and gives them new ones.  War pushes rebirth and reconstruction, even if it hurts.

 

It is Thor who gravitates slowly towards Bruce as he rests flowers atop the caskets of their two oldest founders. It is Thor, with his bazillion cracked bits glued by hope instilled in him, who wraps an arm around his shoulders and affirms: _it’ll be okay. Just like you said it would_.

 

_It’ll be okay, because we won't go through it alone._

  
  
\--

 

 

 The work to accommodate the remaining people of Asgard on earth are tiresome. Their customs are wildly different, their beliefs clash, and some of them- well, lots of them, actually- are prone to developing either a victim or a god complex. They feel cheated and justifiably so, they are tired and rightfully so, and humans… humans just seem pliable, a good distraction. They believe in promises, they believe in powers, they believe in negotiating parts of themselves in exchanges for godly favours. Thor hasn’t slept in weeks trying to manage possible disasters.

 

It’s unfair to both sides.

 

Mead helps. Valkyrie gives him stares, but she can’t judge when he starts carrying liquor on his back like it’s one of his blades. She’s a fairly good listener, and just as good right hand when it comes to keeping _peace_ in their small apartment complex, (read: intimidating hooligans into submission.) because that’s where they were assigned to. It’s all different and strange _and not as good as it used to be._ And even if he tells himself he should stop comparing, because a worthy king would do with what he’s given, he’s not much of a king at all. He provides nothing but promises and negotiations with humans in a government that classifies him- them all- as all kinds of alien, and unwelcome, and troublesome.

 

And part of him, the childish, prudish part of him, is upset enough to want to live up to the disgraceful expectations.

 

After ten days, five hours, and seven large cups of booze, in the middle of dinner, Thor shuts down. His lungs fill with air, and with them comes the numbing sensation that starts off on his feet, and builds up higher and higher, until his entire body has collapsed and thrown his mind into a state of otherworldly darkness. The last thing he sees with his milky blue eye is an alarmed Valkyrie calling for aid, trying to hoist his body up and asking urgently, a thousand times, if he could listen to her.

 

_‘My king?’_

 

_‘Oh, you really are a dumbass.’_

 

 

_\--_

  


 

He sleeps.

 

His eyes open in a strange place that feels like home, but not quite. Its sky is yellow, and red, and ricochets the sounds of weapons clashing and battle hoots from far, far away. There are two ravens sitting just above him, perched on a crooked oak tree and discussing in bird tongue. Thor is no stranger to his father’s pets, and they snicker seeing he’s woken up.

 

_“Odinson lives!”_

 

_“Thou art expected, Odinson.”_

 

It’s quite unnerving, to be addressed by a pair of birds by name. He’ll never get used to it.

 

“Expected by whom? I assumed the all-father was done with me.”

 

He winces immediately after saying it, his tone off and sarcastic from the baggage he accumulated. Huginn and Muginn don’t seem to mind. The little slits they have for eyes are squeezed in amusement, and they take flight, circling him as crows usually do to fresh pray.

 

 _“Odin Borson is all-father no more. Not that you’ve shown to care, Odinson, delaying your duty and birthright.”_  
  
_“And for what?”_ Muginn mocks.  
_  
_ “For mead.” Huginn answers.

 

He’s quickly growing tired of birds. Thor wants to peek for what’s over down the valley, he wants to shoo the devilish creatures off his path, but they block him.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

_“Of course you don’t.”_

 

_“Thou art a Thor, after all.”_

 

_“And Thors are ignorant. But Odin is no more. And this is your sleep. The All-Fathers rest.”_

 

The ground shakes, the sky ripples, the orange bleeds into blue, the blue bleeds into black, the black- the black consumes. The black storms. The black houses lighting and lighting brings forth the hurricane.

 

And when the Hurricane comes, there is only Thor, as the ravens dissolve into mist and ash. And voices.

 

_“Like Odin and Bor and Buri, the kings before your rule.”_

 

_“The King’s restoration.”_

 

_“The Thorsleep.”_

 

And even Thor fades.

 

\--

 

He sleeps for two weeks. His body glows and shimmers with crackling electricity, the air is crisp and heavy around the entire chamber, and Valkyrie is the one and only to come and go to check on his vitals. She recognizes this strain, this power, this process. She’s heard of it, accepted it without question when she first became what she is- a knight, a valkyrie.

 

But this king is young. This king, unlike the other, hardened, battle-worn father, hasn't urged for the throne like his predecessor or his siblings. This king is kind and burdened, and his new power feels like it might crush the foundations of his being. She drinks more, she closes the blinds, she locks the door and murmurs a prayer to her sisters.

 

This king has stars running through his missing eye, an entire cosmos expanding and contracting inside his skull. This king has been scolded by the full power of a star, yet he’s still oblivious enough to wear an eye that _reeks of a critter’s ass._

 

May Freyja guide them all.

  


\--

  
  
  
“That’s… that’s a pretty big castle you got there.” Banner mutters into the cold wind whipping his curls on his face.

 

There is snow as far as the eye can see and he is breathless, wide-eyed as a doe as he takes in the size of the building that was conjured out of a storm. Thor’s storm, to be specific. He had put his enchanted uru up in the air, and murmured a prayer to an undisclosed god- perhaps to the cosmos itself, perhaps to the lightning that lived within him- and the world was consumed in flashes and clouds for minutes on end as the god pulled a fully-formed Asgard out of thin air. It wasn’t as big as the planet island he had visited briefly, but Bruce had the impression it was at least a third of it. It was astounding, magical, unbelievable.

 

A lot like Thor, really.

 

“It came to me in a dream.” speaking of the devil. “-I wasn’t sure if it would actually work.” there is a tone of amazement in his words, disbelief being deconstructed. The air around them is icy cold, and the dust from the feat was still settling down. Odinson whispers his words with a light anxiety, confusion as to where and how this was added to his set of powers. His hands feel heavy and so does most of his body, calculating how much energy that ate up.

 

“You’re telling me, a weird voice told you in a dream to drag me all the way up to Norway and test mumbling a... _magic chant_ in the middle of nowhere without being sure it would _actually work?_ ”

 

 _Gods_ he’s so hissy, Thor bites in a laugh.

  
“Yes.”

 

He sees the mock outrage rush past Banner’s face, then a sigh of realization.

 

“You brought me as a backup in case something went haywire.”

 

“Yup.” The mountain of a man shrugs, sounding at least 100 years younger. “But it doesn’t strikes me as cursed from this angle.”

 

No it doesn’t. _Hell no it doesn’t._ Bruce has only been in a palace once, briefly, during the whole mess with Thanos that he tried to not bring up ever since they took care of it months prior- it was a wound, a pretty deep one. Closing that chapter in all their lives had been the hardest thing they’ve had to do so far, together with the passing of some of their oldest friends. This castle, though, it was a mountain of gold and gray and a memory of what he once saw in space, comparable only to his childhood dreams. except this felt real.

 

“No, i suppose it doesn’t.” he tilts his head to the side, rubbing his arms and sidestepping in the snow around them to see how far the walls went, and what lied around the corner. “So, are we going in to investigate or are you fine with just standing around and being molded into a mansicle?”

 

He feels a snowball crash with the back of his head and he _gasps_ , turning around on the balls of his (shaky) feet to be met with a chuckling thor, trying to suffocate his laughter to no avail.

 

“The hulk is afraid of a little cold?”

 

He earned that.

 

“ _Maybe!”_ The corners of Banner’s mouth fight with him for the right to become a smile, and he gives in, face already pale and red from the temperature shock.

 

Thor strides towards him and for a moment Bruce panics, fumbling to take a fistful of snow and turn it into a ball in case he’s going to be attacked again, but as soon as he’s ready to throw it, his face is deep into plated chest armor and he’s incredibly aware of the warm arm hooked around his waist snug like a safety belt.

 

His snowball crashes with its motherland below when Thor jumps into the air, holding him in tow, propelling them both past the walls and into the insides of the gigantic building before Bruce can say a single “ _oh_.”

 

They examine the insides carefully. There are patios, towers, halls, long, LONG dining rooms and kitchens and bathrooms and a golden treasure vault, for God’s sake. According to Thor, the only things missing were what they took during their escape. namely, the tesseract and the bodies Hela had brought up to fight against them. Everything else was eerily right where it had been for the 1505+ years Thor’s been alive and running about the place.

 

 _There was a bridge,_ as insane and farfetched the entire word sounded as soon as it left Thor’s mouth. They had entered from the back, and there was a sizeable, sparkling, multi-colored rainbow bridge by the entrance. Static,as if dead and waiting, but there. Bruce feels like he’s getting a crash course through a very metodic mythology museum, as the god points at statues and maces of legend and exclaims one or other fact about their existence, and why they were here, and _why it precisely proved that this could very well be an elaborate hallucination on Thor’s end._

 

“I think it’s real. Suspicious, but real.” Bruce pokes at the large throne sitting empty in the King’s hall, as Thor goes off on mouthing in disbelief that even the murals had been restored. not the murals revealed to him with Hela’s upbringing and blood and conquest- The ceiling scenes with his childhood, with Loki and him as the only children of Odin. With his mother, front and center. “I mean if the cold is anything to go by, i’m pretty awake right now. So we aren’t both hallucinating. And i- i haven’t exactly _been here before,_ either.”

 

Thor nods in agreement but still finds it hard to look away, running his hands through his hair. It was in a weird state, stuck between being cut and growing, because none of the options felt right. None of the options felt like him.

 

Thor doesn't quite feel like the Thor he was before.

 

“There was more to it.”  He looks at Bruce with fire somehow in both his eyes, like his lighting bolts invaded the casing of his glass eyeball and made themselves home.

 

“More to the dream?”

 

 _“The dream!”_ He vibrates with the same excited energy he had back in the orgy ship, grabbing Bruce tightly by the shoulders ( _oh god, his hands are freezing)_ and shaking him with the emphasis of a man who just predicted the lottery result. “It was a vision, i know it. My father- well, my father wasn’t on it, but- Heimdall was on it. Loki, too. And, and Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg-”

 

With each mutter his voice smile got brighter, lighter, and Banner found himself nodding to names of people he didn’t knew, places he’s never been, prophecies that didn’t belong to his heritage but sounded like they mattered immensely anyway.

 

“And they were all here? Not in _valhel_ \- Valhalla?”

 

“Yes! well- no. Not exactly, they were… sleeping. Here on earth. We were all dining in the great halls like the old times. But different, because my hair still wasn’t as beautiful and-” he points to his _eye_ with a shrug. “Perhaps there’s a way of shaking them back to life from their slumber.” hm. Bruce looked a little pale. “...Are you alright, Banner?” Thor unhands the man, concerned he’s being too forceful.

 

Bruce’s mouth trembles a little as he just sheepishly mutters, _“ ‘s freezing in here.”_

 

Thor figures out a way to light up most of the fires within the next hour, before spiralling on a retelling of his legendary prophetic dream of blasting life back into his hometown, trying to not pick on the fact the strongest creature on earth had a weakness to snowy weather. He had to admit, it was sort of endearing. They sit around the dining halls for a good two hours (Bruce with a vest larger than his entire build to warm up quicker, Thor burning enough with the hope growing in him) before it downs on them that they have somewhere to house all the asgardian refugees. They wouldn’t need any more provisory homes, or avenger compounds, or struggling with Pepper to negotiate with the government - they had a home.

 

They. Not just Him.

 

Thor is not sure since when he started speaking about Bruce as a plural, and he lies when he’s asked if Hulk was anywhere to be seen on his vision, considering his role in ragnarok. He wasn’t, because he was alive and sitting right in front of Thor- But he was definitely welcome to be part of that future.

 

The odd feeling on the depths of Thor’s gut upon first stepping into the place was that something was wrong, something was not quite right, something was _missing_. The palace missed its people, just as much as they had, falling apart in the post-war landscape of an unknown planet.It feels good to open the doors again. To let the stream of people flood in and take space, breathe life into an empty mighty block of rocks and gold.

They could take on a whole new world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the world changes and stays the same.

  


**II.**

 

The world has never been kind to Bruce Banner. For reasons and circumstances beyond his control, input or influence, most of the time. Most. Like any other human, he still held a fair share of blame and poor decisions under his chest. He tried exploding his school’s bathroom lockers once. He built a bomb meant to replicate the super soldier serum. He assisted in the creation of a killer robot with a faulty criminal prediction algorithm. He hasn't spoken to his cousin in years. He doesn't remembers what Betty’s voice sounds like anymore. He has to share a body with a version of him that acts out all his loudest, deepest, darkest impulses. He keeps that beast locked and suffocated under the subconscious of his mind, and he knows he should've came to peace with that eons ago, but it's hard. Giving out his time and being to the beast for an unknown amount of time, with the uncertainty if he’d ever come back was dreadfully scary.

 

The world has never been kind to Hulk either. Hunted, persecuted, misjudged, used- the amount of times he’s lashed out seem almost rational when you know it.

 

These days, though, he’s almost seen as an hero.

 

Banner isn't certain of how it happened, it just did. But the changes and meddling the avengers inflicted in the stream of space-time and multiverse during the fight with Thanos wasn't without consequence. There are some new, interesting variables. He’s made an entire chalkboard out of it, as insanely troublesome as the task seems- and how much easier to file and categorize it would have been using an automated system- scratching the board with the slow crunch of chalk was satisfying. Filling up the inches of a wall-sized blackboard with little notes and doodles of new discoveries proved itself to be a sort of therapy, as naming the chaos at least brings it closer to familiarity.

 

The main incognitas, as of _now_ :

 

**1- A group called the fantastic four.**

 

Superhuman count: 4.

 

Features: A fire man, an elastic man, an invisible woman, and _(his brow furrows a little.) a '_ thing’.

 

_(Bruce erases that when he first notes it, and calls him rock titan instead. Maybe it's wishful thinking. It just sounds more… promising, legendary, less mocking. He’s afraid he’ll get the same fear mongering press Hulk did.)_

 

Status: hiding from the spotlight and and acting on their own, they got decimated by the snap and were brought back when the Avengers fixed the reality stream back into the status quo. Unknown. Unreachable.

 

**2- 'Mutants’,** That's how the press calls them.

 

Superhuman count: Unknown. Estimated 1 in 1000 by the university of fuck-all, everyone is too afraid to look into it. ( _He might’ve pressed the chalk a little too hard, it breaks a small hole in the board.)_

 

Features: Children born with powers, teens going through puberty and waking up covered in spikes, phasing through the floor, puking burning lava. _Mind-readers._

 

Status: popping up all over the place. From his knowledge of this reality, they aren't exactly _new_ either. The number of incidents in children just went up. Not many super-heroing, mostly just… Accidents. Sightings, like cryptids and urban legends of a steel-clawed man. No public association, as of now. Government is pushing for a special police task force to apprehend and interrogate them.

 

Note: The government is stupid. S.H.I.E.L.D has yet to assume a position on it.

 

Further observation, scribbled as a post note: He probably will not agree with S.H.I.E.L.D measures.

 

**3- Sleeper Asgardians**.

 

Superhuman count: estimated 200 bordering on 800.

 

Features: This one still eludes him. Thor has explained that his weird vision instilled in him the knowledge that ragnarok is a cycle, and as a cycle, his people will be born anew. He supposes it's fair.

 

Status: Check up on Thor.

  
  


\--

  


The elders start to call their new patch of land “Asgardia”. In a broken game of telephone that lasted 48 hours, the information passes from them to the children, from the children to outsiders, from outsiders to the press, from the press to Thor, microphones shoved up in his face when he’s summoned for a public inquiry and Pepper laces him into agreeing with it. (Fury didn’t have enough emotional leverage, Thor is wary of what he represents.) Apparently, they weren't allowed to build a palace-village complex on just anywhere, much less in non-US soil. He gets questions like:

 

_“Is this a move from_ **_S.H.I.E.L.D_ ** _to establish control points across the globe?”_

 

_“Did you not check with the_ **_president_ ** _?”_

 

He looks at Pepper on the side of the platform. She looks choked-up pale, fidgeting with her wedding band and aggressively tapping on a small ipad in order to establish a connection with T’challa.

 

_“Are you trying to_ **_overthrow_ ** _the current king?”_

 

_“Is your golden castle built by_ **_slave labour_ ** _? Who keeps it running?”_

 

There are a multitude of flashes, cameras, scrawny people looming over notebooks with glasses perched on the tip of their noses, scrutinizing even the words that he hasn’t yet said. there are empty chairs marked with names of politics.

 

_“Won't your magic affairs_ **_pollute_ ** _the environment?”_

 

_“Aren't you afraid of attracting another_ **_disaster_ ** _to earth with such a huge_ **_target_ ** _?”_

 

_“Whatever happened with your_ **_OLD_ ** _castle? Didn't you have_ **_somewhere else_ ** _to be?”_

 

_“We’ve heard you want to_ **_separate the entire country_ ** _to call your domain Asgardia. Can you elaborate on that?”_

 

_“Don't you think it's a little ignorant to expect Norway to hold all your_ **_alien_ ** _population?”_

 

His answers aren’t enough. He’s never been great at giving out speeches, much less analyzing potential trap-questions from a thousand different sphinxes in order to not endanger his people.It’s as if they want to tick him off. _And that’s exactly what they’ve gotten._

 

The conference closes abruptly with a loud tempest, and Thor burning a bright mark on the platform’s floor.

  


\--

 

The headlines on the next hour after that read as a threat. **“If they want to be bitter, let them be bitter. If they wish to fight me, so be it.” - Has Thor Odinson declared WAR?**

 

Bruce wakes up with the ping of his google alerts blowing up at 4 AM, lighting up the entire lab. He fell asleep on top of his work tablet, drafting a blueprint of a quantum teletransporter that could be linked to a duffel bag. It was very… risky, to say the least, not to mention radioactive, but he’s the Hulk. Who cares. He turns lights to full potency and pushes his wheeled chair backwards, toward the “Social Network” table ( _Yes. His screens are categorized by theme, it forces him to move around a little by design.)_ He blinks, vision spotty as he tries to make sense of the notifications popping from either side, most accompanied by pictures of pepper and- _a charred table?_

 

His iris adjust finally to read _‘THOR. God of Thunder gone Haywire.’_ right in the center of the shitstorm, and he takes it the interview didn't end well. They are pressing for a statement from the president, some websites are suggesting he has a plan to murder the old swedish royal family. _(That one is a huge tabloid stretch, he’s sure.)_ most of them hold a special focus on the fact that he all but flipped off the cameras, refusing to answer to questions and bifrosting away from everything under a record-breaking 30 minute mark. Pepper had dealt with the fallout, but she wasn’t what they came for.

 

‘'Cameras placed around Asgardia did not register the king arriving after his tantrum.” Bruce echoes from the screen, running his hands through his hair out of pure frustration. Of course they couldn't simply leave any of them alone, this was earth. They are super-powered show monkeys and a distraction from the circus that are the usual politics.

 

He has a hunch, though. Bruce cracks his back, stuffing his feet into his puffed slippers, and slides across the lab, putting the entire system into standby. He lives in a bunker. Stark had left him a good deal of fortune on his passing, things signed at the time Hulk had ejected himself into space and he felt guilty of the circumstances of his disappearance, and this was the safest alternative to getting a big apartment in the city (That wouldn't guarantee the safety of his neighbors in the grim chances of a code green.)

 

His metal case was deep down the ground, constructed in steel and vibranium enforcement, courtesy of his staying experience in Wakanda. As good bunkers go, it was projected to be hidden from intruders and trespassers, secluded from cities in a 200 km radius. In case of a Hulk-out, it would lock him down to destroy the inside, not outside. Worst case scenario, it would send a signal to Thor to stop him before he stomped on an entire community. As such, Thor has been registered in his system with administrator privileges.

 

Bruce crosses the decontamination hall between his lab and his living room to find Thor curled on his poorly kept sofa, profile illuminated by the blue flickering light of the news outlets on the television. He’s switching between channels, trying to look like he’s unamused and unbothered, but it comes off as thinly veiled anxiety.

 

“I didn't wish to wake you up.” his eyes flicker between Bruce and the tv. “It’s late.”

 

“That was never a problem for you.” Banner smiles on instinct, he’s glad to see Thor. He’s… he’s not sure how to classify the warmth on his gut. The obvious observation: his hunch was right. He was brilliant. But the further note, attached in smaller arial typesetting in his mind: _his hunch was pure wishful thinking. He only wanted to see Thor again._

 

“Scoot up, i wanna sit for a bit too.” he taps Thor’s legs and the man groans dramatically, giving in to his request.

 

“Did you see it?”

 

he considers lying.

 

“I have a ping on you. So yeah, i saw it.”

 

“A-- a ping?” Thor sounds _horrified._ He immediately jerks upward, sitting up to rub at his chest and at his back like he’s looking for a hidden camera, suspecting he’s been planted with a bug that exposed all of his recent embarrassments and some. Bruce stops him with a hand, pushing him back down on the couch pillows and pulling his legs up to his lap.

 

“A ping is an alarm, Thor. If someone talks about you and google thinks it’s important, i’ll know about it. So we can answer if we need to.” the man is all armor and muscle, how can that be?

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Don’t _‘Hmm’_ me. I have it on for most of us.” Bruce is still groggy but dead-serious. Thor is looking at him like he’s been watching him shower. “Surveillance systems would fry with the energy that runs through your body on a daily basis, i’m swearing it.” he crosses his heart with shake of his head. “Cross my heart.”

 

The god lingers, squints, the turns on his side to actually rest against the couch. he takes in a deep breath, seemingly relaxed.

 

“My brother once turned into worm and intruded upon the sole of my feet-”  


_“Oh. Disgusting,”_

 

“I traveled days on end, you know, and he was just hanging there. I was hunting for giant goats and kept tripping for no reason, this sharp pain stinging up my tendon like a wild porcupine was-”

 

He just laughs at Bruce’s scrunched up face, trying to block the image of a parasitic worm loki wiggling on the bottom of his brother’s feet for the sole purpose of making him trip while hunting.  


“Is that the part where he stabs you? are we skipping to that?”

 

“No, no, he set the goats on me that day. Turns out the worm was just a little portion of him while he lounged at home, like your ping.”

 

Banner smacks his torso in further protest, weak enough to be playful.  
  
“Did you get the goats?”

 

“Tamed them.” he closes his eyes in a pensive hum, turning off the television screen. “My brother had told me that a man’s will was measured by the level of stubbornness of the beasts he can tame.” Thor sounds like he’s been transported to a faraway place, describing the events of a lost yesterday. “It seemed fair, at the time. Goats were the most stubborn animal we knew, so i set off to find the two most formidable ones to head my carriage. It was… terrible. Lots of waste, mud, bugs. Tripping. But it was worth it to see his face fall at my _formidable efficiency_.” Thor puffs out his chest, laughing quietly.

 

He opens his eyes to see Bruce had been staring at him this whole time, entranced by the less disgusting parts of the story. he’s got an arm slung over the couch, cheek resting on his hand.

 

Thor thinks he looks quite beautiful, unguarded.

 

“I hope you can find him soon.” He reaches out to mess with Thor’s hair without a second thought, and during a split second both of them just accept that as a perfectly organic progression of their exchange. Bruce pulls back as soon as the embarrassing realization of what he’s doing hits him.

 

Both of Thor’s eyes still haven’t left his own.

 

“Me too. _But i still have you._ ” he holds Bruce’s stare with a warm bewilderment, smiling at him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

 

It’s a little bit too much for him to correctly process. He untangles himself from the couch and Thor’s legs altogether, straightening up his back and setting an automatic course to the kitchen.

  
“I, we- _i think i need a coffee_. Do you need a coffee?” Bruce mumbles out, marching forward.

 

“Mmhm.”

 

“Alright, i, I’m going to get us breakfast,”

 

“Bruce?” Thor rolls on the couch.

 

“Yeah?” He freezes around the corner, head pressed to the cold wall.

 

“ _There’s noodles in your sofa. It’s sincerely disgusting. You ever clean this place?_ ”

 

Banner wheezes, cracking up a laugh and rubbing at his face from under his glasses. It’s just Thor. They’re both weird.

 

“Hold onto that thought, worm boy.”

 

He files that feeling under his ‘to examine later’ folder, right after the reminder that they need to talk about Asgardia, or whatever that place ends up being, and how to deal with it before the UN has to step in.

  
  
  


\--

 

**4- Thor.**

 

Superhuman count: 1.

 

Features: An absurd amount of lighting, the recklessness of a young goat, appreciation for sugar cubes dwelling on his coffee.

 

Status: safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some little things are being edited over time as the story more or less takes on a more solid shape. tags edited, some errors in the previous fixed, still working out the kinks on the summary as it looked too gloom before and that's not really the atmosphere im going for. thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> So. you've reached the end of this part! thank you for reading, my narrative is messy and i haven't written anything for others in a long while, so this is also not beta read. i just wanted to stitch together a bunch of small scenes as these characters grow and surpass generations and the world they used to know, and there's plenty i still want to write, in long chunks. for clarification: a LOT here are and will be a mix of comics/movies, i'll try to narrow and stay focused on the source material (and trail off sometimes) but i've been buzzing to apply some comicverse arcs into the mcu and specially with these two.


End file.
